Degradation

Rionara groggily blinked herself awake. Her eyes were met with a ray of sunlight coming off from a crack in the decayed wooden wall. Upon blinking a few more times, her vision finally focused and she was able to see more clearly.

She was inside a small wooden shack, the smell of wet mold and earth was the first thing that hit her nose.

“Where…?”

She muttered, confusedly. The last thing she remembered was being inside Geralt’s shop in order to pay for the new equipment she had ordered but the next thing she knew, she was in that strange shed. She tried to move her arms but both of them were tightly tied behind her back.

“Huh?” As she tried to stand up, the entire chair she was sitting on also lifted up. “What the… where am I?”

As she asked herself that question, she heard a small sob come from her left. As she turned to face whoever was making that sound, she noticed a blonde girl curled up against something leaned against the far left wall.

“Hey… are you-” She couldn’t finish her sentence. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the shed, she realized the little girl was clinging to the body of a frail old man. “AAAAAAAH!”

Upon hearing her screams, the door of the shack slammed open and a lithe man wearing a formal black longcoat entered the room.

“Shut up! What in the seven hells are you screaming for?!” Being the first time Rionara actually saw a corpse up close was enough to make her insides turn into outsides as she couldn’t hold the urge to retch up the breakfast she had eaten hours prior. “Gah! Have some class!”

The puddle of vomit landed near the man’s shoes which made him back up in disgust. Rionara’s mouth felt bitter, the acidic taste made her feel even more nauseous as the man shouted.

“You’re lucky we still need you, otherwise I’d burn you to a crisp here and now.”

“W-wha… wha…?!”

She tried to ask questions but no words came out, as she started to hiccup while trying to gasp for air, which only made the man even more irritated.

“Tsk! Stay quiet, you brat!”

He stepped over the puddle and smacked her head with a swing of his walking cane, making her head rock down and up from the impact. Blood started to trickle from the tip of her head down to her nose.

“Argh!”

He then flicked to the girl on his right.

“You too! Stop clinging to that disgusting corpse!” The trembling blonde girl didn’t reply, her emerald eyes were bereft of any light. “Tch!”

He turned around and slammed the door shut behind him. Rionara felt despair, she didn’t know what happened to her. Her head was pulsating in pain, her limbs were tied and there was a corpse of a person she didn’t even know of right beside her.

Rionara’s chest tightened as she started to get winded with each breath becoming shallower and quicker than the last. Her arms felt numb, her mouth tasted bitter and her heart felt like it was going to come out of her mouth at any moment.

‘Pris… she’ll… she’ll save me…’ She urged it in a silent prayer as her body started to shake uncontrollably. ‘I… why…? Why… is this happening…?!’

The cold sensation coming from the bottom of her stomach was starting to spread to the rest of her body like a devastating plague. It felt like she was drowning in despair. The same despair she had felt years ago.

The scars on her body started to ache. A pulsating pain that reminded her of the abuse she suffered under her father.

“USELESS! USELESS!”

His yells echoed in the depths of her mind as she could feel the snap of the whip against her skin again.

“You… you should’ve died instead…! Your mother gave her life for you! You useless THING!”

Her eyes lost their focus as the air around her started to become colder. An intense aura of death started to pour out of Rionara’s body. The small tufts of grass that were poking through the loose wooden boards of the shack started to wither and curl as if it was being killed off by her mana alone.

As it spread, through the ground, it was as if the blackened mana became a deadly mist, corroding or outright killing anything that used to be alive. Which included the girl emptily clinging to her deceased adoptive father.

She didn’t react. In fact, the little girl Eleanor welcomed the blighted mana. As the black mist touched her toes, it was like a plague spreading throughout her body. Veins blackened as her skin started to lose its natural color. Death was crawling upwards through her body much like a drowned ghost sailor trying to pull his next victim down with him.

But Eleanor’s death was anything but peaceful. As the mist reached about halfway through her body, her face started to contour in pain, she didn’t scream—because she couldn’t. The black mist spread out like a rot, quickly eating away at her body—her muscles involuntarily spasmed from the pain and shock.

In a matter of seconds, the blonde emerald eyed girl was nothing but a blueish corpse clinging to another one of its kind. A few seconds passed, then minutes. A twitch.

The old man’s fingers twitched, scratching the wooden floor. Suddenly, grotesque sounds of cracking bones started to resound from the old man’s corpse as it stood up on its own while Eleanor’s still limp body fell on the side.

The mist remained low near the ground before eventually condensing back as it slowly returned to Rionara’s body. As it entered her body, the young woman jolted awake. A searing pain started to assault all of her senses as she felt the center of her chest heat up like magma.

It was the first time she had ever gone through such intense pain—but she couldn’t scream. It was like muscles were locked in a battle of attrition between themselves, she couldn’t breathe, scream or even move.

‘What… what is happening to me?!’

Her calves, thighs, arms, forearms and chest felt like they were exploding outward. All muscles in her body were put under severe stress that made her pass out. The shack then fell silent.

Outside the shack. The lithe man and his muscular companion were waiting with around ten other thugs holding clubs, pitchforks and daggers.

“Do you think she’ll come?”

The muscular man asked with doubt in his voice. He was wearing dark green trousers with a white shirt beneath the single breastplate. His sleeves were rolled back, revealing a massive pair of arms equipped with equally large leather caestuses.

The lithe man shook his head and shrugged.

“She will. Just be patient.”

The slums were the perfect place to stage an ambush. There were no guards nor people willing to play heroes. Priscilla knew exactly where she had to go.

The knight’s hurried footsteps were accompanied by the clattering of her equipment as she drew the rapier out of its sheathe.

‘Charles and Carl…’ She thought about the names she was left with. ‘Why did they go after Rio? Was it to target me?’

She couldn’t find a logical explanation at the time. But she knew exactly what had to be done and as she stepped into the open area leading up to the Father’s shack, she noticed a couple of armed men. They varied in muscle mass but one thing was for sure, they wanted her dead.

From amidst the men, one in particular stood out as the mastermind of it all. A thin limbed man wearing a draper longcoat. A very out of place presence in the slums.

“Welcome, miss fencer. You got here faster than I expected.” He smiled confidently as he bowed shortly. “My name is Charles and you shall meet your end here.”

“Where did you take Rionara?”

“The brat? She’s inside the shack, but it’s not like you’ll get to see her again.”

Priscilla raised her left hand and a ball of fire the size of an apple appeared. She was seething with rage, but her magic was completely stable as she declared.

“I don’t stand to lose if I were to torch this entire place. Show me that she still lives!”

“Tsk. That damned Ivan.” The lithe man clicked his tongue as he nudged the muscular man to go inside the shack. “He didn’t tell me we were dealing with a capable mage.”

As the brute opened the door, a frail old man lurched out and slammed into him. But unlike the man he had been, the reanimated corpse was vicious. Lean arms locked around the thug’s shoulders, pinning him to the ground as it snapped at his face with feral hunger. Its yellow eyes held nothing human, only instinct.

“Aaaah!”

The muscular thug screamed which prompted the lithe man to turn and level his cane at the reanimated old man.

“Firebolt!” A mote of fire appeared at the end of the man’s cane and exploded into a powerful impact against the side of the hollowed corpse. But it did not stop it—in fact it seemed to make the corpse even livelier. “What in the world…?!”

The thug grabbed the corpse’s throat and held it far away from his face as it kept trying its hardest to take a bite out of him.

Priscilla didn’t see what was happening at the shack’s entrance but that brief distraction was enough for her to charge forward. Three thugs with pitchforks ran at her in hopes to stop her forward momentum. She pointed her left hand forward and shouted.

“Blast! Fireball!”

A massive cone of wind erupted from her palm as it fed the fire ball, turning it into a spiraling inferno that torched the men completely into charred corpses. Seeing their companions die such an agonizing death made the others hesitate.

That hesitation had opened a direct path to the mastermind, which Priscilla took without hesitation. She thrust her rapier forward and Charles barely avoided her blade by stepping to the left side.

“Urgh!”

Charles could almost feel her blade. The knight’s presence was overwhelming up close, one more flick of her blade was all that she needed to land a hit on him however…

“Raaaargh!”

The muscular thug managed to hurl the reanimated corpse straight into Priscilla’s right side which had sent her tumbling across the grass field as the old man rolled a few more times until it landed close to another thug.

“Oof!” She grunted before regaining her feet, only to be hit in the back with a wooden club. “Argh!”

She staggered forward and another thug came running with a dagger in order to stab her from the front, but thanks to her reflexes she was able to flick her rapier and nick him in the throat which made him back off while holding on the wound.

‘There are too many…!’

There were still seven armed men not counting the two main culprits. She could opt to go all out with magic but then everything around her would go up in flames and if Rionara was truly inside that shack, she couldn’t risk using fire magic and potentially kill her.

As she was busy trying to figure out what to do, Charles once again raised his cane and shouted.

“Wind Bullet!”

A green orb of compressed wind was shot at high speed at the knight. While she was able to dodge it just barely, another thug with a pitchfork quickly stepped in and stabbed her right side of her belly.

“Ngh!”

She could feel the stinging sensation of the metallic point going through her chainmail as she bit her teeth down to endure the pain. She slammed the pitchfork down with the pommel of her rapier and quickly stepped on it before following it up with a kick to the chest of the thug holding it—sending him stumbling backwards without a weapon in hand.

Another tried to charge in and throw his entire weight behind a stab with a dagger, but she deftly dodged him and quickly landed two shallow thrusts in quick succession to his arm which made him drop his weapon as well.

“Hah… ha…”

Priscilla was trying to recover but the thugs just kept surrounding her. Their different sized weapons meant she had to keep an eye out on who would most likely attack first.

‘If they keep this on, I won’t be able to use my magic…!’

“Don’t let her cast spells! Keep attacking her!” Charles shouted before turning to the muscular thug to his side. “Go Carl, we need to finish this.”

He punched his own hand while cracking his knuckles beneath the leather caestus he wore.

“Aye, Boss.”

Seemingly getting cockier, the other thugs started to move more aggressively as well. As one of them tried to stab her from behind with a pitchfork—an arrow sunk into his neck just as Priscilla had turned around to face him.

“Gah!”

He started to gurgle blood as he fell on the grass while trying to breathe, only to die seconds later. All eyes turned at where the arrow could’ve come from and all they saw was a man running towards them with a raised sword and stained shield. Behind him was an elf holding a bow and nocking the next arrow on its string.

“Miss Priscilla!” Reinhardt shouted atop of his lungs. “Where is the girl?!”

“The shack!”

“Got it!”

His tall build and kite shield made an impact as the other thugs didn’t know what to do.

“You idiots!” Charles shouted. “Stop him!”

Using the ensuing chaos, Priscilla swiftly dashed to the closest foe on her left and maimed him with a lightning fast stab to the throat followed by a slash that was sure to leave him dead in a couple of seconds. As another panicked and tried to club her, she ducked beneath the attack and swung the blade in an arc—catching the man’s neck against it. However, her strike was but a shallow wound—she held her rapier’s hilt with both hands and pulled the sharp blade through his skin. A splash of blood painted the grass red.

“Die!”

Another thug came running at her with his raised club, but he was shot in the back with an arrow, making him lose balance and meet a quick end on Priscilla’s rapier.

Reinhardt approached the shack while trying to keep the spell fencer in his field of view before Carl blocked his path.

“The famous knight-adventurer.” Carl snarled as he opened and closed his fists in anticipation. “To think this is the day I’d get to kill a famous one.”

“Hah. We’ll see about that, big guy.”

‘Thank the goddess, he is here…’ Priscilla saw Reinhardt fight against Carl from the corner of her eye. ‘Now…’

As she returned to her current predicament, she still had to deal with two more thugs.

‘What do I do…?’

One had his hand wounded earlier so he was holding a club on his left hand while the other one had picked up a pitchfork that was on the ground. Her arms were heavy, her body was aching and her legs were starting to slow down.

She tried to move sideways, but they kept matching her movements to block Elaine from hitting them with arrows.

“Tsk.” She clicked her tongue before raising her left hand slightly behind her body. “Fire-”

“-bolt!”

A mote of fire exploded square on Priscilla’s back.

“Priscilla!” Elaine shouted as she only now realized there was an enemy mage behind the shack. “Tch!”

The elf abandoned her angle on the thugs below and rushed around the shack—noticing the man in a longcoat that had just cast the spell with his cane pointed forward.

Priscilla was knocked forward right into the thug’s pitchfork. He leaned back and thrusted the point straight into her belly—knocking the air out of her.

“Gah!”

The three metal spikes punched through her chainmail as the thug tried to force the tool deeper into her stomach. She grabbed the shaft of the weapon and tried to keep it from going any further, but given she only had one hand on it—it was practically impossible for her to overpower him.

“Aaaargh!”

She could feel the metal dig into her flesh. The searing pain made her drop the rapier and hold the teeth of the fork. The other thug came rushing in to deal the finishing blow with a devious smile on his face.

“Haha! I got her!”

Just as he was about to hit her, the reanimated corpse got the drop on him from the back and snapped its teeth against the side of his neck. The other thug heard a loud crunch as warm blood splattered against the side of his face.

“Uwaaah!”

Panic struck the pitchfork wielding thug, which was just enough for Priscilla to manage to yank the metallic tool out of her body. The area around her stomach and the edges of her jacket closest to the wound was painted crimson.

“Nngh!” She clenched her teeth and pulled the pitchfork to the side, pulling the thug with it. As the man was within arm’s length, she shouted. “Blast!”

A concentrated load of mana accumulated in the center of her palm before exploding violently. Blood splattered on her face and body as she sent the thug flying many meters backwards through the grass. Once he had been dealt with, she fell with one knee on the ground while panting heavily.

But she knew it wasn’t over, as she turned over her shoulder to look at the shack—Charles was charging another spell with his cane pointed at her.

“Wind-”

As he was about to finish his spell, an arrow pierced through his forearm—getting stuck midway into his limb as he dropped the cane in pain.

“AAARGH!” He held his forearm with his left hand while screaming in agony. “You… YOU FILTHY RATS!”

“Boss!”

Carl glared at Elaine but he couldn’t just charge her down thanks to Reinhardt being able to keep up with his unarmed skills.

Priscilla’s entire body felt sluggish and Charles was still a few meters away.

“Haa… ha… haa…”

She raised her trembling left arm and held it steady with her right hand. Elaine was readying another arrow as Reinhardt kept Carl busy and out of her line of fire. That was it, they only needed one good shot to end all of it.

Suddenly Priscilla felt something move past her at an inhuman pace. It was the frame of a familiar old man.

“Huh?!”

The knight recognized him. ‘Father’ the man responsible for keeping the young girl Eleanor safe. But he wasn’t the same frail old man he seemed to be—quite far from it. He had broken into a full sprint at Charles in the same manner as a wild hound would after its prey.

“Wha–!”

The mastermind raised his left hand, but it was too late. The corpse lunged onto him full force—knocking Charles flat on his back.

“Gah! You bastard-!” He desperately punched it on the jaw, dislocating the rotten bone as it hung loosely in front of him, but contrary to what he expected, the corpse didn’t show any sign of pain. “What the… WHAT ARE YOU?!”

It didn’t react to his question, instead, the reanimated man started to slam its closed fists at him with reckless abandon.

“Boss! Get away from him!”

Carl turned around to help him and Reinhardt capitalized on his mistake to turn his back on an enemy. With one swift slash of his longsword, he made the brute crumble down with a loud thud on the ground.

“Argh! My legs!”

“You should be grateful I’m not killing you.”

With a solid strike of his pommel to the temple, Reinhardt knocked the man out before turning his attention to the uncontrolled brutality that befell Charles.

“No! Pbheashe! Stahp-!”

Each punch was sinking the man’s head deeper into the grass and rendering his face less recognizable. Blood and tears stained Father’s hand but the brutality didn’t stop until Charles became completely immobile.

Priscilla grabbed her rapier off the ground and Reinhardt raised his shield ready to fight the standing corpse, but as it turned around with its yellow hollowed eyes—it glazed passed over him and turned to the spell fencer instead.

Its stare sent a terrible chill down Priscilla’s spine and as Elaine was ready to fire another arrow, she shouted.

“Wait!”

“Hah?” The elf hesitated when the spell fencer started to walk towards Father’s figure without showing any intention to fight. “What are you doing?!” Elaine was prepared to step forward but Reinhardt stood in her way. “Rein?”

“Leave it to her.” He spoke without taking his eyes off the standing corpse. Its fists were dripping with blood but it didn’t show any signs of aggression towards Priscilla. “Something isn’t right with him.”

“That’s supposed to be Father, right?” She asked with her hand still keeping the bowstring drawn just enough so she’d be able to fire that arrow if needed. “He… he wasn’t a fighter, was he?”

“No and I don’t think that is ‘him’ anymore.”

Those words confused Elaine, but the knight knew from his gut that something was different. The normally kind and calm man was no more and what stood before him felt like a crime against the natural order of the world.

Priscilla held her wounded abdomen as she dragged her feet up to the shack. As she passed by Father’s corpse, it kept staring at her without showing any reaction before eventually starting to shamble behind her like a moth to a flame.

“Rio!” The spell fencer yelled as she reached the doorway. “Rio! Are you there?! Answer me!”

She couldn’t see much from the shack’s entrance, it was dark and the smell of rotten, damp wood was the first thing that hit her nose. As she led her steps inside with the rapier in front of her, she felt something dreadfully familiar.

‘An aura of death…’

A cold sensation started to spread outwards from the pit of her stomach. She swallowed dry. Another footstep forward made something crunch slightly beneath her right foot. Looking down she could barely see the outline of a stretched arm—its skin had sunken down to the bone as if years had passed after its death.

Unlike any adult corpse she had seen before, it was too thin. A feeling of anxiety started to surge from her heart as she took half a step back and kneeled down. Her eyes trailed from the small sunken fingers all the way towards the corner of the wall—another body.

Blonde strands of hair had fallen in front of its face, but Priscilla knew exactly who it was.

“E…Eleanor…?”

It was a horrifying sight, the child she had seen happily eating just days prior was now a desiccated remain of her former self. Priscilla involuntarily held her breath as she jerked her hand back while letting out a faint gasp between her teeth.

Her heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribcage and it only became stronger as she instinctively turned to the darker corner of the shack. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the low light and then she saw the shape of a person tied on a chair.

“Rio…?” She let go of her rapier and staggered towards her. “Rio!”

As she reached with both hands on the young woman’s shoulders, she could tell something felt off. Her small frame and tender muscles felt different. It was as if she grasped someone older—but that wasn’t possible, at least that is what she told herself.

“Rio! Is that you?!” She desperately moved the woman’s hair aside and that is when the realization finally hit once she saw a familiar bracelet hung on a necklace around her neck. “You… what… what happened to you… Rio?”

Her clothes were ripped open at the seams and the ropes that bound her limbs were painfully digging into her skin.

Priscilla didn’t know what to do. Her mind couldn’t comprehend what just happened inside that shack. Magic? Curses? Rituals? Nothing she knew could barely begin to explain what she had just witnessed.

For the first time in her life, the spell fencer stood frozen in place, not knowing what to do.

From just outside the shack, both Reinhardt and Elaine kept looking at Father, who was still simply standing there with both arms at its side as if waiting for orders.

Both knight and elf looked at each other before they reached a mutual agreement. Elaine loosened the bowstring and went to check on whoever survived from the battle while Reinhardt carefully approached the doorway.

He was ready to strike at the corpse if it moved, but it didn’t show any signs of aggression even after getting close enough to touch it with his shield. Since it stood in his way, Reinhardt softly pushed Father to the side and it simply took one step at the direction it was being pushed to without making any attempts to prevent him from moving into the shack.

Inside, the first thing it came to him was the stillness of the air—a familiar sensation. Death. It definitely wasn’t his first time witnessing it, but unlike others, it didn’t become any easier for the former Paladin to stomach it.

His boots crunched the rotten wooden floor planks as he approached a kneeling Priscilla.

“Have you found her? Miss Priscilla?” He sheathed his blade as he took yet another step forward, but something felt different under his boot. “Hm?”

From the corner of his eye he noticed a sunken corpse. A very familiar small frame which made him fight the urge to puke.

‘Is that…?’ He kneeled down and shifted the desiccated corpse’s hair aside, revealing two sunken emerald eyeballs. He frowned his brows as he carefully closed her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Eleanor…’

He clenched his teeth and fist while averting his gaze towards the spell fencer once again as he said.

“Miss Priscilla, we must find that child, even if she isn’t here-”

“She’s…” Her voice trembled. She kept looking at the teenager’s face that was in front of her. “She’s right here…”

“Huh?”

He squinted his eyes and noticed the vague resemblance of her dark hair and clothes, but surely the child that was with her just a day ago couldn’t have grown this big in so little time. Or at least, that is what he would’ve thought if he didn’t see the ropes painfully digging into her skin that was already starting to become blue from poor circulation.

He didn’t reply to her and instead drew his sword once again before approaching the back side of the chair and kneeling down. The rope was unusually tight and as he freed her arms, the young woman fell forward straight into Priscilla’s arms—who seemed to snap out of it with the sudden physical stimulation.

“Ah!”

She jerked up as she felt Rionara’s weight against her arms.

“Hold her tight, I’ll cut the ropes tying her legs now.”

“R-right.”

Upon freeing her from the chair, Reinhardt stood up and looked around the shack. It didn’t seem like it was being used for a ritual nor it had the lingering mana vestiges of a spell, which made him frown his brow.

“Rio…” Priscilla tried to stand up with Rionara in her arms, but she could barely muster strength to keep herself standing. But before her legs gave out, a slim arm helped her keep the young woman from falling on the ground. “Ah…!”

“Careful there, you’re wounded all over.” Elaine spoke as she helped shoulder some of Rionara’s weight. “Let me carry her. Rein, can you help Miss Duelist over here?”

“No I’m-”

She tried to stand up but her body suddenly felt extremely heavy and she stumbled sideways into the knight’s shield arm.

“I’ll help you.” He spoke firmly. “Let’s get out of here.”

Just as they were about to make their way out of the door, the reanimated corpse walked inside. That prompted Reinhardt to ready his sword but as opposed to his expectation, the shambling Father went to the corner of the shack where Eleanor was laying against.

It fell on its knees while moaning and groaning, seemingly in distress. That sight made Priscilla’s heart sink as she closed her eyes.

Reinhardt avoided his gaze as he sheathed his sword.

“Let’s go.”